perhaps Gucci,’ I concede. I’m thrilled.’ It has everything! Voyeurism, trivialization of sex, manipulation.’
‘It’s a terrible idea,’ shouts Issie.
I’m genuinely bewildered. ‘It’s brilliant.’
‘It’s the principle I object to,’ she adds.
‘I don’t deal in principles – they are no longer legal tender.’
‘More is the pity.’
I start to imagine the marketing and PR. ‘He’s put on a pound or two, maybe lost a bit of hair, but otherwise he’s unchanged. He was the love of your life when you were twenty-one and ten years have gone by. Yet he has that same boyish grin, he still calls you by your nickname and he remembers that you bought your hair gel in goldfish bowls at Superdrug. How can you resist?’ I’m warming to my theme.
‘Flirting with nostalgia is perilous,’ warns Issie.
‘That’s its selling point,’ I confirm.
‘You could wreck lives. Be responsible for cancelled weddings,’ she squeals.
‘We’d pay for the wedding if it fell through.’
Josh looks at me as though I’ve just crawled out from under the rim of the loo. This surprises me.
‘What?’ I demand, hotly. ‘I’m saving taxes. Your hard-earned taxes.’ I think this will get him. Josh is in the 40 per cent bracket. He has private healthcare and went to public school, so my very reasonable argument that taxes aren’t just for the building and deconstruction of our roads but for the building and reconstruction of our healthcare and future has never washed with him. Now I’m grateful.
‘If these people married, they would sooner or later divorce, dragging their five children through the courts. The children would be emotionally scarred and, no doubt, perpetrate the scenario by re-enacting their parents’ failed marriages. The total legal aid costs could run into hundreds of thousands.’
‘Christ, Cas, you deserve a medal,’ bites Josh sarcastically.
I choose to ignore the sarcasm. ‘I knew you’d see it my way.’
I can hardly sleep with excitement. I fine-tune the details. I consider that perhaps it is too much to expect every couple, weeks away from marriage, to have cracks in their relationships, but I could advertise. I reason that no one is going to come forward and volunteer that they are feeling restless or randy. People lack such emotional honesty or self-awareness. I know – I’ve operated in the so-called adult world for sixteen sexually active years and I’ve yet to find anyone who is prepared to call a spade a shovel. But perhaps there is another way. Perhaps I could attack it from the other side. I’ve seen countless examples of paranoia, jealousy, insecurity and mistrust. Now that is an angle! Maybe I could advertise for people who doubt their partners and want to test them before they make that final commitment. Then all TV6 will have to do is manoeuvre a situation where the mistrusted party comes into contact with the threatening ex and then… And then! I hug myself. Obviously it depends on the mistrusted partner never having a clue that they are being tested. Total secrecy. But that shouldn’t be too hard to achieve. In my experience secrecy between couples is pretty commonplace. I know this is big. I can see it now. The reaction of the duped, the hypocrisy of the rogue partners. All on live TV. It is pure brilliance! It’s so cruel. It’s so honest. I can smell my success and it makes me feel sexy.
I switch on my bedside light and feel under my bed in an attempt to unearth my electronic diary. I hesitate. Problem with repeat performances is that they invariably lead to unnecessary complications. The guy involved thinking I really care, him thinking he does, or his wife finding out and thinking both of us do. Yet, needs must. I really can’t be bothered to get dressed and drag myself to my club to pick up something fresh. The diary beeps at me. Steven Arnold? No, I think he just got married. That would be awful timing. Keith Bevon? No, psycho, stalker tendencies. Phil Bryant? Didn’t he emigrate? George Crompton, or perhaps his brother Jack? Oh no, too late in the day for the complex sibling thing – ‘Why did you ring me rather than my brother?’ ‘Is mine bigger than his?’ Lord, it’s enough to bring on a headache. Miles Dodd? Good idea, not too clingy, not too involved – with me or anyone else. Prepared to hold back until I come. Yes, Miles will do nicely. Disappointingly his line is engaged. Well, at least it’s just his line. Joe Dorward. It takes me a moment